


Anonymous Contract

by PurpleArrowzandLeather



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Everyone knows Slade would gladly kill Joker for money, Gen, anonymous contracts, how it could go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleArrowzandLeather/pseuds/PurpleArrowzandLeather
Summary: Slade Wilson is just about ready to leave Gotham when he receives a potential job from an unknown source. He isn't sure if it's the target or the dollar signs that get him to take it.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	Anonymous Contract

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing.  
> Enjoy :)

It’s late in the evening when Deathstroke receives a call. With a furrowed brow and cautious fingers, he picks up his phone. 

“ _Wilson. We’ve caught wind of a new contract in the area, if you’re still hanging around Gotham, that is.”_

Slade huffs, cocking a brow and puffing on a cigar. “This had better be good. After that last job of yours went haywire, I was planning to drop off the grid.” 

“ _I’m pretty sure you want to stick around and see what this is about.”_

“Get on with it, then. You’ve got ten seconds before I stop listening.” 

“ _I don’t need ten seconds. Someone wants the Joker dead, and they’re willing to pay a fat stack of cash to see it happen.”_

It catches Slade’s attention. He may not want to be in Gotham for much longer, but the Joker? Now _that’s_ a contract worth sticking around for. “Who put out the hit?” 

“ _No idea. It’s an anonymous tip.”_

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s taken a contract from an unknown party, but it’s not something he makes a habit of. Still.... It would be well worth it to see the look on the Joker’s face before he died. He’s more than earned a bullet to the brain for everything he’s done. It doesn’t take a genius to see that. 

“What’s the pay?” 

“ _I’m sending you the details now. Check your monitor.”_

Slade reads over the contract, sitting down in his chair at the sight of the payment. This job would pay for the inconvenience a hundred times over. He tells his contractor he’ll think about it, hanging up the phone when the man warns him it won’t be long until someone else decides to take the contract. 

Kicking his feet up on his desk, he stares at the contract for a few minutes. He takes another drag off of his cigar, the end glowing warmly as he debates. It would be good to be able to take a long vacation. He briefly considers making the murder a public ordeal just for the sake of screwing with Batman. The old man wouldn’t thank him, that’s for sure. All of Gotham, on the other hand, would probably want to nominate him for sainthood. 

Slade chuckles. Unfortunately for them, he’s not saint material. 

With a bit of a smirk, Slade accepts the contract. He takes a short nap before gearing up, hoping to be at least somewhat rested before he takes out the worst psychotic to ever live. 

He studies the blueprints for hours, working out the fastest way in and the best way out. Several escape routes are available despite the number of guards running around. The only thing that really poses an issue is the sheer number of security cameras around. 

Scrubbing at his chin, he realizes that he could pay a visit to someone who’s been on the inside. 

It takes a while to locate her, but Harley Quinn has never been known to keep a low profile for long. Slade straps his swords to his back, checking the ammo for the guns on his hips. A set of throwing knives slides into place on his thigh, a perfect fit. With a grim sort of determination, he pulls his halved mask over his face. The orange and black mask that has terrorized many people, killed a lot of others, is going to haunt the streets of Gotham one more time. 

Slade doesn’t know why, but he wants this to go down exactly according to plan. 

A short reconnaissance run and a bit of stalking later, he waits for Harley to pass an alley as he stands in the shadows. She startles, reaching a hand into her purse for what he assumes is one of a pair of guns. 

“Now, now, Ms. Quinzel. I have no intention of hurting you. I just need a bit of information.” 

She tilts her head back, squinting at him. “And why exactly would I give information to you?” 

“Because I’m going to use it to kill the Joker.” 

As soon as the words pass through his lips, he can see her interest is piqued. That being said, her hand remains inside her purse. “Oh, yeah? Well.... What kinda information would you be wantin’ to know?” 

“I’m in need of some inside intel for getting into and out of Arkham, preferably without being caught. I have a plan, but you, little Harley, have the know-how for the execution.” 

She makes a face at his word choice, reformed as she is, but she gives him the information without a fight. He honestly expected her to try to take him out, but it appears there really was no love lost in Joker and Harley’s last falling out. 

He leaves her alone in the mouth of the alley. What he doesn’t see as he’s walking away is the cruel smile that crosses her face, nothing remotely close to regret in her expression. 

Aided by his new knowledge, he passes through every door in Arkham without issue. Acquiring a passcode to get him past the security checkpoint is all too easy, his uniform stolen from the supply hub. He stands at the control panel only a few feet from the Joker’s door. He tugs a blade from his set, lazily tilting it in one hand as he pumps a very mild dose of sedative gas into the room. 

Slade enters the room, knowing the sensors will never pick him up. Harley’s bug in the system would assure that. He has a hard time believing that she won’t put her skills to use as a freelancer, but what other people do is none of his concern. 

The assassin hums a quiet tune as he picks the Joker up by his jumpsuit. The maniac comes around, drowsy but conscious. 

“Is it morning already?” 

Slade chuckles, the sound deep and menacing in a way that would scare most people. “No. I think it’s finally time for you to say goodnight.” 

“Hmm. Read me a story?” 

The man in black and orange smiles behind his mask. “Sure. Once upon a time, there was a crazy little clown. Someone put out a hit on him.” Slade presses the tip of the blade against Joker’s chest. “One day, a monster took his contract.” 

Joker smiles, his eyes lolling around with delirium. “Oooh. This is a good one.” 

“And then, in the blink of an eye, his life was over.” 

Slade’s blade hand pushes forward, piercing skin and muscle as if they weren’t even there. The Joker gasps, his hands reaching for the knife as Slade lets go of him. He’s slumped on the floor, only just realizing the threat to his life. 

Joker pulls the knife out, slowly and with shaking hands. He looks up at Deathstroke, a grin spreading across his face as he starts to croak out a laugh. “The.... End?” 

It was a dark thought as he was leaving the asylum -undetected, just as he had hoped - but Deathstroke would never forget the way those words sounded like both a question and a threat. 

If he does happen to come back one day, rest assured Slade would return to finish the job. 


End file.
